


(Anywhere I go there you are)

by Eicinic



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Growth, He tells himself he hates Keith because it's easier than dealing with how much he wants him, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 21:55:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8817643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eicinic/pseuds/Eicinic
Summary: He's always been his reason to belong here.





	

[x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zKmWd8DPrEc)

 

 

He’s been locked up in the training room for the past four hours. He’s not really training, the hologram dodges his blaster rather gracefully, but Lance can’t bring himself to care. Coming to the training room late at night is almost a relief: he’s not in the dining hall pulling a smile for the rest of the team to see, nor he is in his room with the responsibility and loneliness crushing him down. He’s just here, sweating his anxiety out until he eventually slows down and this turns into a pattern every night.

He wishes Shiro was still with them, so he could call him out on being a dick. _Thanks for letting me this shit-ass responsibility, pal,_ but he has no way to say so, not even to the stone they dropped on the backyard of the castle with no name on it just because Keith threw a tantrum about how Shiro was still alive. Let him tell you something: Shiro was growing worms thirteen feet underground in Quiros, Lance dug the grave himself. They should have brought him back to Earth, but Earth doesn’t feel like home for them anymore so, whatever, he’s good where he is, with pieces of the castle over him and the rest of the Galra ships he managed to take down before his lion blowed up and they lost Voltron.

It’s been three years since that.

Lance’s grown taller, he’s still scrawny but his sharp shoulders are broader, shorter and rougher brownish hair and empty, green eyes.

The conversation of a future successor had been in the air for months previously to the disaster of Quiros, both Coran and Allura sure of Keith being the safe option. Keith? When Lance came back, dragging one of the ears of the black lion, barely on his feet and left arm hanging useless, Keith threw himself at the Galra in the next mission they had together, almost sacrificing everyone’s lives in the process. He’d switched off his speaker, so Lance’s yelling fell on deaf ears. He sacrificed half of his own lion to tackle Keith’s and both spiraled down the atmosphere of a red planet, conforming the first meteor shower the primitive population of it ever saw. They violated half a dozen articles of the 18.89 constitution of the multiverse by interfering with the evolution of an undeveloped alien race, said Coran days later when they were finally found, but at that moment, when they landed rather harshly and everything crashed over his head, Lance could only kick some of the metal to make his way out of the ruins of his lion to shout at Keith how stupid he was and how much he should have let him die in front of hundreds of aghast eyes of the small inhabitants of the planet.

Keith couldn’t even reply. He was trying to take off a piece of junk from the flesh of his thigh, his shaking from a pain that wasn’t physical.

 _Then you should have had,_ he snapped barely above an asphyxiated yell, he was better dead anyway. Lance clenched his fists. Once. Twice. And then punched him in the face because they _were partners,_ they need each other, _Voltron can’t just lose another paladin. The universe needs us_ and then punched Keith again, for good measure, when he was about to open his mouth to cry out _Shiro needed me!_ , the same story over the past months.

Shiro had needed them all, but they hadn’t been there. This is the truth: Lance sucked as a paladin. As a pilot, as a teammate. He was the only one within Shiro’s reach when he got swallowed up by the fire of the enemies, but couldn’t make it there. Because he wasn’t good enough. So, then:

_blame it on me_

And Keith incredulous eyes, judging if he was out of his mind. Maybe he was. Doesn’t war create monsters? They were teenagers once, but not anymore.

 _Blame it on me until you can forgive yourself_. And also: I will lead Voltron.

There was no doubt in Lance’s eyes, just that fierce determination shining low and dangerous in the way he was staring down at Keith, all of him disjunctive but put together.

Then:

Okay.

It’s that promise he can read in Lance’s expression that makes him answer without a second thought. _Okay._ Lance is stronger than him, he can deal with both of their demons. After all, he was the one who survived Shiro and pulled them together before Voltron could fall apart definitely.

He knows, then. If someone can do this it’s Lance. So he repeats himself, clearer:

_okay._

They still fight until they’re found, Lance’s infuriated with his kamikaze behavior. He doesn’t voice it, but he knows he’s clinging onto his partner more than necessary, he wouldn’t have bickered so harshly with Hunk or Pidge but Keith _is the person he’s been looking up to_ since they discovered the lions, _he’s the person he would like to be._ Yet here he is, sitting on the ground of a cave they found by the mountains, shoulders slouched, hands sweaty and dirty face not showing any kind of emotion. Lance wants more than this, more than his affirmation. He wants Keith to raise his chin and walk _by his side._

Lance doesn't want this whole responsibility, but he takes it anyway.

So here he is, two years later, quietly dissembling his gun to reassemble it again, a habit he’s got over the past weeks. He has worked, hard, everyday. He’s able to understand Pidge, Hunk and Coran’s babble when they’re immersed in whatever scientific matter. He knows he _is_ reliable because Allura relaxes in his proximity when years ago she was only tense and somewhat untrusting. He’s able to take the right decisions, too, and this is something he takes pride in.

Then. He’s worked his ass off to understand the laws of the universe, the culture of each planet, to know as much as it is needed to, as much as a leader is supposed to, and has sparred with Keith until their hand-to-hand combat was even. Keith is still a better pilot than him, and a better fighter, but Lance’s not bitter anymore. If anything, he’s glad he can count on him to have his back. Yet, their communication is worse than ever. They have been avoiding each other for so long they can’t remain in the same room together for more than a few hours, until the silence grows uncomfortable and Lance finds he has nothing to say to Keith because Keith is a person he can rely on but doesn’t know.

It’s unnerving.

It’s true that he said _blame it on me I can deal with the guilt_ but he thinks the mute statement was also clear: _do it until you can move on._ Either Keith hasn’t moved on or he really hates him this much. They are still missing one paladin, so they haven’t formed Voltron in these three years; he has no way of knowing how Keith feels or what he thinks but it’s not like he has the permission to ask. So. He doesn’t.

Above them all, with Shiro’s dead he’s failed Keith and this is something he can’t fix nor change.

So he deals with it in the best way he knows how: respects the distance Keith has imposed on them.

With his muscles sore and his back aching specially- this has been going on for the past months but he’s still going to pretend sleeping four hours is enough for his body- he makes his way to his room. It’s long since Lance didn’t allow himself to be selfish. These wishes of coming back to Earth, of dropping the responsibility, of stop being defenders of the universe are long buried inside him. He doesn’t recall the faces of his family, they all probably have changed enough that he would no longer recognize them. Or, most likely, they wouldn’t recognize Lance. There’s an authority in the way he speaks it’s impossible to recall in his teenager self, a tension in his shoulders, a bitterness in his words.

He spends more time than necessary in the shower, forehead on the tiles of the wall, water running down his exhausted body, silently wondering:

_is it time to find another paladin?_

Nobody has brought up the subject, probably because the ghost of Shiro sits with them at the table every time any of them thinks about what’s next. What’s next is not this neverending limbo in which they don’t walk forward but they don’t walk backwards. They are just here: doing what they’re supposed to in the few ways they can.

So when they are reunited for breakfast and Coran is chatting with Pidge about one of the most advanced races on the universe, Lance waits a little, counts to twenty, scatters the porridge around in his plate and intones, clear for everyone to hear:

“We need a new paladin”.

There’s a loud noise and he knows it’s Keith slamming his spoon on the table before he even looks at him.

“What did you say”, his partner hisses across the table and Lance locks eyes with him, this is the first time they’ve talked in weeks. He drops a tense smile.

“I said. we need. a new Paladin, Keith, sweetheart. The Galra empire is fading away but that doesn’t mean they are not a threat to us and the universe. We are just running around like a headless chicken” his smile widens because _oh the pun was so uncalled for_ Keith’s face is murderous. “We need a new paladin to pilot the black lion”.

“You. told me. you would lead. Voltron. not. substitute one of us. _Right_ I almost forgot we are only _the job you have to do_ ”.

 _That._ Is something he doesn’t expect. He feels ripped from the inside so the only response he can manage is defend himself by firing back:

“What do _you_ care it’s not like you _know me_ at all”

The tension can be sliced with a knife. For the sake of his pride, since they’re not alone in the room, Lance looks away and mutters _whatever._ Allura decides to save the day, conciliatory:

“Keith. Lance has a point. This… can no longer go on. If we find a new paladin for the black lion we are not damaging the memory of Shiro. He’s been already recognized by all races in the concilium as the _unwavering paladin_ , one of the greatest of all time and space. There is no highest title than that. His guidance will forever comfort us during the years of our duty.”

Keith is gritting his teeth and clenching his fists. This is a lost battle: they need a new paladin. Lance can’t keep it to himself:

“Just _bury him already._ ”

There’s an exasperated groan coming from his left, where Pidge is sitting in time with Keith standing up and kicking the table harsh enough that it presses against Lance’s chest and some glasses are knocked over.

“Like you did?” He adds sarcastically, before storming out of the dining hall.  

“ _Good,_ Lance, you just got the highest score in being a jerk” Hunk is the first one breaking the silence.

“ _I_ was the jerk?” He’s genuinely hurt.

“You were an insensitive piece of shit”, corroborates Pidge, back to finish their meal.

“Is nobody going to vouch for my ass? He’s the one…” but his protest dies in his throat because he doesn’t want to show them how hurt he is over the wall Keith has built between them. He tried to convince himself over the past year that he asked for this: _blame it on me,_ but the truth is that he’s hurt, and tired. Keith is childish and self-centered, he hasn’t even spared a moment to think of Lance’s own demons. He failed _Shiro_ . He failed Allura, Coran, his teammates, he failed Keith _._ He wasn’t good enough. He isn’t good enough, but he is trying his best to keep this unity together because they have a duty to carry on. Once his teenage self understood there wasn’t a _coming back home_ for him, there is nothing else but Voltron. Lance payed the highest price for the leadership, how can Keith be _so blind_ to it.

He hates him.

He convinces himself he hates him, and that’s better than living with the stressful dread of the mistakes he’s still making.

“I reunited you here because I want to see if the drift is still working among you”.

Lance has the helmet in his hands and is incredulously staring at Allura across the room, to where she hides behind the screens. This has to be _a fucking joke._ It hasn’t been three days since the big argument and they have _to drift together?_ Pidge is staring back and forth between him and Keith, it’s _infuriating._

 _Can’t you be more obvious?_ he wants to bark, but bites his tongue and slides the helmet in, purposely staring at the floor.

Soon there’s this pull in his guts, the vertigo, his perception of spatiality changing and he can feel _them_ touching his mind. It’s more violent than ever: he doesn’t want them peering in his thoughts. He doesn’t want them to find Keith was right: Lance is considering them as his job so he doesn’t have to face the huge depression eating him alive inside. Guilt is something he can’t get rid off.

Therefore he keeps a distance between them, barely in touch with Hunk and Pidge’s presences, enough to make sure they know he’s participating. After so long without drifting together it’s hard to also pay attention to what’s happening to his surroundings, sucked in by the huge, welcoming and warm sensation Hunk always washes him with when they are close enough for their essences to overlap or the sharp, lonely and intricate mind of Pidge.

He relaxes in their company after the first five minutes, none of them are invading his mind but allowing him to peer inside instead. He feels worry coming from both of them and Lance notices he’s sighing. They’re not _rejecting him._

They would, probably, if they knew what grows inside him.

After all, it doesn’t matter how hard he tries, he’s not Shiro and he can’t bring him back to life. The phantom of failure breathes down on his neck more often than not, bathing him in cold sweat during nights until his body gives out on him and he gets those three hours of sleep that are welcome like balm but are not enough, and his bones protest every morning when he gets to his feet.

There is one reason why he’s been respecting his distance with Keith and it’s not because his partner needed time, but because Lance’s a coward. He doesn’t want him to know he’s unable of being a good leader, he’s afraid he will make a new mistake, he’s afraid of looking at Keith and seeing unforgiveness in his eyes.

“Fuck, Lance!” He bolts in place at the sudden cry, opening two eyes he doesn’t know when he closed. Pidge is wiping their eyes furiously, the blackhaired is openly glaring at him from where he’s sitting in the circle and Hunk’s face is so pale he looks about to hurl out his intestines.

“What was _that_ ” he hisses, and Lance doesn’t have energy to deal with this right now but he drops the sharpest of his smirks.

“Are you chickening out, babe? Never got you for the coward type”. He knows he’s dug his grave as soon as the words are out.

“ _Am I?_ Drifting means honesty, you’re the coward scumbag keeping to yourself until you threw up your shit on us I _am not_ going to form Voltron _with you_ ”.

“Lance”, Pidge interrupts before Lance’s fist finds Keith’s face, “it was _horrible._ I thought I was having a panic attack until I realized it wasn’t me, it was you. You asphyxiated us. We can’t form Voltron like this”.

Then, Hunk:

“Man, you need to fix that”.

 _You need to fix that and they’re looking at him like they’re expecting something,_ but he doesn’t know how he is supposed to fix what’s wrong inside him. I mean, the black lion is repaired but their collective memory is not.

“Yea, I guess I’m not suitable to be a leader” he voices and widens his mouth a little bit more, in that bitter way he has of spitting out his guts in his smile. “Wanna take over, Keith? I mean, with how much of an asshole you are I’m sure you wouldn’t even need us. Oh, it’s not like you do anyway”.

There’s ruffling and Keith’s fingers are suddenly gripping the collar of Lance’s blue t-shirt. He’s not going to give in so easily so they shuffle around trying to overpower the other, landing punches and repeatedly kicking stomachs so they can impose some distance, just to collide again the following seconds.

It’s harsh, it’s raw, it’s painful, Lance’s crying but he can bring himself to care because he still can focus his blurry vision on Keith’s bleeding, angry face. But then a knee digs in his thigh and he’s sent twisting in the air until he hits the floor with all of his bones and the air is knocked out of his lungs. They remain there: lying, panting, sweating and, in case of Lance, crying.

This didn’t use to be like this. When did they damage each other so much they’re reduced to mutual hate?

“You. are. A liar.” Keith managed between laboriously heaving. “I. hate. Liars.”

So that’s how it is?

“You’re selfish, self-centered, egotistical and a dick. You. Don’t understand. The meaning of partnership”

“IS IT ME WHO DOESN’T UNDERSTAND?” Keith yells, and he’s never yelled before. Not that Lance can recall in the last three years. He doesn’t elaborate, only stands up, wipes his bleeding nose and throws such an enraged glare at Lance he cowers from where he’s sprawled on the floor. “Maybe the gravestone outside should be for you instead of him.”

The blow hurts so much Lance can’t mask it in time and knows Keith is seen it. In the same way Lance sees the darkhaired turn his head around quickly, to avoid looking at him. In other time he would’ve think Keith is regretting what he just said, but now he probably doesn’t want to be a spectator of Lance’s humiliation. He understands. He can’t stand himself either.

“Get out” his damaged pride finishes for him. “Get out of here, of this castle, of our lives. You’re not worthy of being a paladin. You will never understand what sacrifice means.” The brunette doesn’t really mean it. He doesn't want to wake up to a life without Keith. He was, in other time, the reason for working hard, for challenging himself, the reason for him to belong here. If he promised he would catch up with Keith they wouldn’t have a reason to kick him out. If he was capable of leadership, they wouldn’t kick him out for failing them.

He did, anyway, right? This is what Keith’s face is saying.

“Don’t mistake self-pitying for altruism.”

“Oh, so that’s what they call shoot yourself in the foot.”

They glare at each other. Keith is still standing and Lance is still all over the place, so he gathers himself and stands on his feet trying his best to ignore the screams of his body.

That’s when he realizes they’re alone in the training room.

“If you can’t bear with this just drop it. But don’t make promises you aren’t going to keep”.

The disappointment in Keith’s voice feels misplaced. There is no anger in his expression, only tiredness. He’s also not looking at him. Wasn’t he only blaming him for Shiro’s death?

“I don’t know the fucking issues you have with me, bud, like, _really,_ I have only tried my best.”

Then:

“ **Liar**.”

Keith finalizes their conversation by turning his back on him and padding out of the room. Oh, so that’s a new habit. _Good_. It’s not like Lance wants to re-learn Keith again. He rather not. (The heavy pulse of his heart is saying otherwise.)

He’s angry at himself, angry at Keith, angry at Pidge and Hunk for their purposeful tiptoeing around him, Coran and Allura’s heavy gazes, as if everyone knows something Lance is missing. He visits the backyard of the castle when the sun is rising and sits under the colossal shadow of the stone, as colossal as the expectations of leadership feel and asks aloud what he’s doing wrong. Neither the stone nor Shiro answer him.

Right. Because neither of them can’t.

Lance is by himself now. These are the choices he has to make and these are the paladins he has to look after. He has to make them work as a team. He has to be half as good as Shiro was, defend the universe, attend to all races equally.

He snorts to himself.

How is he going to do all that if he can’t fix this inside him making all of them upset. His team is not a team because there’s one piece malfunctioning: Lance. He guesses he’s been avoiding this topic long enough already. Long enough that he is a stranger to the rest of his own teammates. To his _friends_.

He is been feeling dead for so long he doesn’t remember what waking up thrilled to live felt like. But everything was working before he started wondering all of this, right? Things were okay just a few days ago. And then: _fuck you Keith you can never keep your mouth shut_ albeit he knows this is not about Keith firing at point blank range, but about _how honest he is,_ and. Oh. So is this whole thing because Lance hasn’t spoken his mind? Perfect. He will just go in Keith’s room and cry his soul out that he doesn’t want to be a leader, he only wants to be back home. But he can’t, can he. It’s not about not trusting them but about not trusting himself.

Why is Keith angry with him _for that._

He can’t wipe out his insecurities by blowing on them, I don’t know. He’s only human. God, just _how much_ he hates Keith; he wishes he didn’t realize any of this.

He tries to hide how ashamed he is. Maybe they were only trying to get to him and they couldn’t. Lance pushed them all aside for years. Tries to shut that voice in his head urging him to go to Keith and apologize. _He should be the one apologizing to me, he still blames me for Shiro’s death._ Yet he’s the one feeling guilty for their bickering.

“You know” Coran starts one day when Lance’s burying his nose on his homework. He dislikes so much all these stupid intergalactic rules they can all go wipe their asses on sandpaper. “We are not mind-readers”.

“So?”

“So talking is the only way of communicating.”

“Don’t bully me into talking to them, they started all this uncomfortable silence of the past days.”

“Pride doesn’t get us anywhere, Lance. What are you so afraid of you can’t open up to them? That’s the only thing they want. You’re first their friend. And then their leader.”

Coran’s words hurt him more than what he’s going to assume, so he throws an offended glare over the book and keeps pretending to read. Not like he can do it good, right? He’s been trying to pretend over the past years and failing gloriously at it. Great. He will be remembered in history as the _coward paladin,_ so afraid of telling his teammates about his fears he himself stopped being one.

 _God fucking damnit._ He slams the book down and stands up, ignoring the knowing glance Coran gives him and stomping all the way down the corridors to the dorms, kicking Keith’s door rather fiercely.

He’s all barking and no biting when the mullet opens, though, energy leaving his body when Reality slaps his face: he’s here now, he can’t back off.

Right. Okay. What’s there to lose? It’s not like Keith doesn’t think the lowest of him anyway.

“I’m sorry I let Shiro die” he spits out, jaws clenching and knuckles white. It comes three years late but it’s there anyway.

“Wrong. Try again.” And _that’s_ when he’s confused. Keith pulls him in and closes the door, arms crossed over his chest and face cautiously empty of any emotion.

“I’m sorry… I wasn’t fast enough to get there in time?” Keith shakes his head and confusion leaves place for anger. Is he being made fun of? “I don’t fucking know what you want me to say.”

“The truth.”

“Ah, right, how sweet of you honey, buddy, pal, always so empathetic.”

Keith’s mouth tightens, and that’s his only reaction. He’s still blocking the only way out of the room. God. _Lance hates him so much._ Keith is incomprehensible, infuriating, a thorn dug in one of his fingers bothering him for the rest of the day. But also: this fire low in his belly he hasn’t felt in forever.

“I really hate you. I hate how you look at me I hate when you _don’t look at me_ ”. He can’t say I hate when you kicked me out of your life because this is the truth: Lance kicked him out first. “I hate that I’m not good enough, that I wasn’t good enough to save Shiro. I hate that you knew and you still blamed it on me. I hate that I said I could stand it but I couldn’t.”

“Wrong”, he said again, his voice still holding on an edge Lance can’t place. “You blamed yourself. You kicked us out, shielded yourself on the leadership you promised you could keep and you’ve sucked at it _hard_ because you don’t count on us for anything. This is Lance and His Duty because it was Physically Impossible saving Shiro, but it’s okay, he at least can promise you he can do the impossible. You didn’t bury him you buried yourself. You’re Lance, we want _you_ to be _Lance,_ not Shiro. The most hurtful thing is how you treated us all of these years, like we are pieces you need to understand to be able to make us work. _That_ is not leadership. We are _not_ something you can replace.”

He’s really confused now, he’s never thought of Keith as something replaceable but this isn’t a foreign feeling, either. He’s been fearing this very same thing since everything started. He still _doesn’t understand_ why Keith feels like this so he only opens his mouth to stutter _what?_

His partner is not looking at him purposely. The silence stretches between them.  

“When you stood there and said you would lead Voltron I believed you. I believed we could make it together out of this because you had this look on your face, I would have trusted your word on anything. But then, after that, you were so afraid you pushed me away. I was alone, with only your stupid promise and the way you avoided me everyday. It hurt so much I started to avoid you, too. But it doesn’t matter does it? At least you don’t make that face like you’re having your guts sliced open when you look at me anymore.”

“Keith.” His voice is pained, strained, he takes a step forward as much as Keith takes one backwards. He has nowhere to go, though, his back meets the door. “I thought you couldn’t forgive me. I was afraid of that. You have always been my reason to belong here.”

He doesn’t mean for it to sound so _intimate,_ but it does and his face heats up as much as Keith’s.

“Don’t sell me your sweetened words.”

“You wanted me to be honest.” Keith’s constipated expression would be almost comical if the scene wasn’t so uncomfortable. There’s a new silence. Whereas the darkhaired is still staring at the wall, Lance is not going to stop looking at him now. His mullet is kinda short, his bangs as messy as always, his eyes are so dark they are beautiful. “Keith.” No answer. “Keith.” He forces their gazes to meet by gripping at his partner’s jaw and tilting his head upwards. “I’m not…” He clears his throat, furrows his brow. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I always… only… wanted to walk with you instead of behind.”

“You’re stupid” he spits, but he doesn’t free himself from Lance’s grasp. “You’re not an awful leader. Sure you kicked us out, but I can understand you were trying to survive. You did so many things for us in the way you thought you could. Just. Don’t. Push us away.” Then, lower: “don’t push me away. This is not a responsibility you have to shoulder alone. I. Too, was guilty of not being good enough to save Shiro.”

He drags Keith closer, fingers digging into his cheeks, teeth bare and tears blurring his vision. Their noses are touching.

“I’m going to do better.”

And there is this look in his face again, this feral shine to his eyes, the one that made Keith _know_ there wasn’t anyone more suitable of being their leader than Lance.

He doesn’t say I believe you, he says:

_I believe in you._


End file.
